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Hannibal taps his wine glass carefully against Will�s and
they share a smile, a flash of shared memory of the last
time: the bottle smashed by a bullet exiting Hannibal�s
abdomen, the final, utter destruction of everything that had
kept Will separated from him for too long. He loves the pain
of that bullet, will treasure the scar, because it bought
Will home. When he thinks about it, he embraces it, and the
place it has brought them to. Because of Dolarhyde, he and Will are able to stroll through the halls of one another�s mind palaces, each comfortable in all the dark places that killing him unlocked. Will isn�t the first one to see him, but he�s the first to see him and welcome who he is without the �person suit�. Five years ago, six months ago, three weeks ago, Hannibal wouldn�t have believed it possible, however much he wanted to pretend it could be. But everything has changed. Dolarhyde�s attack shattered the last of the barriers between them and finally, finally Will came to him, fighting every step of the way but more committed to his chosen path because of his long, futile struggle to stay off it. They travelled through Europe, always in comfort; talking when alone, silent in strange company. Reaching their final destination was both a relief and a worry, because stopping has given Will time to consider his actions in the cold light of a Scandinavian day, and Hannibal has feared that consideration will lead him to leave. But here he stands, dressed all in black, a picture of confidence and a freed mind. �To shared passion,� Will murmurs, and the words alone would be enough to enflame him but it�s the look on Will�s face, the desire in his eyes, that sets his pulse racing, blood pumping, erection filling. He�s always thought of himself as a sensual being, not necessarily needing sex but enjoying it when the opportunity arose. Yet, in the last couple of weeks, and as their injuries have healed, the idea of fucking Will has become increasingly distracting. Will knows it. He knows everything in Hannibal�s head and is facing it head on, without fear or the need for retaliation. Never, in his whole life, has Hannibal felt so exposed, so naked in front of another, or so turned on. He watches the ruby liquid pass Will�s lips and notices the smile turn to something more predatory. �Is there something you want from me, Hannibal?� he asks teasingly, and Hannibal can�t deny it anymore than he�s ever been able to deny Will anything. He nods, and Will takes a step forward, mouth inches away, only the two fragile wine glasses between them. �Then take it. I haven�t stopped you before. I�m not about to now.� The candlelight plays across Will�s smooth skin where he lies on his side on the dark, Egyptian cotton sheets. Hannibal is at his back, licking and nipping at his shoulders, the nape of his neck, as he presses one long, lubricated finger inside him. �So beautiful�.� Will arches against him, trapping Hannibal�s erection up against the small of his back, a teasing promise of what�s to come, turns his head and strains up for a kiss. Hannibal brushes his mouth over Will�s, tracing the tip of his tongue along the curve of his lips. He adds another finger, sliding into the wet heat of Will�s mouth as his body stretches to accommodate him in its dry heat. �Please, Hannibal.� With a smile to himself, he pushes Will�s knees further apart, withdraws his finger and palms one muscular buttock, easing him open. It�s an awkward position, one arm tucked under Will�s head, but as he considers moving, Will sucks his fingers into his mouth and that option is removed. He shifts his hips, positions himself and pushes in one movement, reaching for Will�s cock at the same time as he presses forward and down, slowly sheathing himself. Will lets out a long breath, which helps, and arches his back again, which closes the last inch and leaves them flush against one another. Hannibal drops his hand to Will�s testicles, gently palming them, tugging lightly at the skin between them, pulling another low moan from Will�s throat. Will�s tongue moving restlessly around his fingers is distracting him from the rhythm he�s aiming to set. He�s unable to stop the sounds he�s making, or the way he tries to smother Will�s body with his own. �If anyone else touches you after this, I will kill them,� he hears himself say, almost growling the words. �If anyone hurts you, is rude to you, insults you, they will answer to me.� Will doesn�t respond, smiles around the fingers in his mouth and grinds back against him, reaching one foot back to hook an ankle over Hannibal�s. Hannibal in turn kisses every inch of skin he can reach, eventually finding a rhythm with his hips to fuck Will slowly, as deep as the position will allow. Never has his heart been in bed with him before. He enjoys sex, he�s had several partners, been in a couple of relationships, but always because the circumstances suited his needs. Will is far from a simple bedfellow. They�ve both fought this at every turn, every point along their aligned paths. But finally they�ve found peace with one another. Finally they�ve reached an accord, Will has emerged from his cocoon and he�s more than Hannibal could ever have imagined. He�s dark, beautiful, confident and manipulative and he�s laid bare for Hannibal now. He strokes his thumb along the top of Will�s cock, dips into the slit in the head, extracting his fingers from Will�s mouth when he opens it to express his frustration with the agonising snail�s pace Hannibal�s settled into. Wrapping his now free hand around the back of Will�s neck, he pulls him back into a kiss that�s sloppy. His body is moving faster, broken free from his iron control for once, thrusting into Will, needing completion, needing Will to join him. Breaking away from his kiss, Will looks him in the eyes and says his name with reverence. He feels his orgasm tearing from him like a physical pain. He�s aware of Will coming over his hand, over the sheets, and has the presence of mind to bring his hand to his mouth to taste his lover for the first time. It�s a sweet taste, no bitterness. A flavour he will love and crave for the rest of his life. �You�re as lovely in bed as you are in every other aspect of your life,� he murmurs, unsurprised by Will�s answering chuckle. �Lovely?� It�s a glimpse of the old Will, not the one who engineered his escape, who helped him kill Dolarhyde before toppling them backwards off a cliff and when that didn�t end their lives, went with Hannibal without challenge, without a single argument. He seems to have accepted completely, and without question, that old adage of what hasn�t killed him can only make him stronger. �You are lovely. Deadly too, and that combination makes you beautiful in my eyes.� �And yours are the only eyes that count.� Hannibal slips from Will�s body and Will moves to face him, lifting one leg to hook his knee over Hannibal�s thigh, allowing him to slide two, three fingers back inside him. At the same time, he kisses Will: his forehead, his eyelids, finally his lips. �I�ve been waiting for you so long, I can hardly believe you�re here.� Will�s hands skim his face and his sides, thumbs stroking his nipples. �I�m not going anywhere, Hannibal. I�m done running from you and I�m done denying you.� He might have been suspicious, hesitant, because this is somewhere he�s been before with Will, and he�s been betrayed before. But this time Will�s given him so much more than half-truths and empty promises, he�s given him his freedom, the death of a serial killer, and the surrender of his body. He�s all around him, the room smells of him - of them - his taste is in Hannibal�s mouth. Removing his fingers, he pulls Will tight to him for a moment before letting go. �We need to shower.� It�s cowardly, but right at that moment it�s all too much. He knows himself well, yet little by little Will has been stripping him bare until tonight when he�s completely open for Will to see, to devour, if he so wishes. Will just kisses the tip of his nose and rises, putting out his hand for Hannibal to join him. It�s very late when they pull the sheets over them. Will�s back is against Hannibal�s chest and he�s wrapped in a possessive embrace. His head is on a feather pillow in a kingsize bed, in a room bigger than his old house in Wolf Trap. He can�t say he�s the happiest he�s ever been, then again he can�t put his finger on the last time he felt happy. Maybe with Molly and Walter, out on the veranda, watching the sun set. Maybe. Maybe not. Not leaving with Hannibal the last time has always played on his mind. He�s been haunted by the reality of his betrayal of him, the idea that he broke some small piece of his heart. Seeing him again in Florence� perhaps that had been true happiness, delirium even, if only just for those few minutes in the Uffizi. What he can say is that at long last he�s at peace. He�s content. He isn�t terrified. He�s not barely balanced on that fine edge between sane and insane, life and death, right and wrong. He�s standing with both feet firmly planted and it�s where he wants to be. It�s where he�s wanted to be for a long time, although how long he doesn�t know. He can�t pinpoint the exact moment that Hannibal became more than his friend. He remembers seeing Hannibal clearly for the first time, with the bars of his cell between them, but even being framed for murder didn�t severed that bond or extinguished the need to be close to him, to be in his presence. He would willingly have stayed in Florence, after the bullet wound had healed. He never planned to kill Hannibal. But as always, the serial killer�s retaliation had been towards the extreme, and Hannibal trying to open up his skull with a bone saw had taken some forgiving. His time in Florida, even his marriage to Molly, had been important if he and Hannibal were ever to reach the accord they�ve now found. He�s sure that Hannibal will see that one day, will see Will�s family as a necessary step and accept Will�s insistence that he leaves them be. The divorce will come through in time, then he will be Hannibal�s and his alone. They both need that to be true. A kiss touches the back of his neck and he smiles into the dark. |